License to Cuddle

6

Definitely very much a fan? What the hell, Jungkook?

Taehyung thankfully ignored his weird answer, merely humming as his fingers resumed their exploration of Jungkook's skin. After a few seconds, he seemed to remember that Jungkook never gave him an explanation and said, "I want to know what made two minutes feel like ten for you. Will you tell me?"

Jungkook watched as Taehyung's fingers started tracing the designs of his tattoos, following the black lines as if they were roads leading toward home. It was soothing, grounding yet liberating. So completely comforting that Jungkook met Taehyung's gaze and said, "I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to ask for or what to say. And I was trying to figure it out on my own, and I . . . I felt lost. Like I screwed it all up before we even started."

"You didn't screw up anything," Taehyung said, his words strong with conviction while his touch remained light. "We could've sat there in silence for the full sixty minutes and that would've been perfectly okay. You're in charge."

"I know," Jungkook said, trying to keep his tone as mellow as possible. "I know I'm in charge here and that this is all supposed to be up to me, but I have no clue what I want. I can't even tell you what I think might feel good for me because I . . . I don't know."

Huh. It was funny how something as simple as Taehyung's touch could make Jungkook comfortable enough to talk. To open up. Five minutes ago, he was a prisoner in his own mind. But now? With Taehyung's hand on his body? He could answer any damn question his hyung had.

"Can I ask you something?" When Jungkook dipped his chin—because he would answer any damn question his hyung had—Taehyung continued, "Do you want to be here?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because," Jungkook put all of his focus on his bicep, to where Taehyung's nails now grazed the swell of his muscle, "the world seems quieter when you touch me. My mind feels calm. You make me feel calm. And I don't usually feel that way."

Taehyung's fingers dipped under the sleeve of Jungkook's shirt for a fleeting moment before skimming back down. "How do you usually feel?"

"Like one wrong word or move from anyone will send me running," Jungkook said, managing to laugh despite himself. "I just . . . I can't remember a time when I wasn't stressed. When I wasn't so crazily overwhelmed or exhausted from work. I try to burn off some steam, to go to the gym—"

"Oh, yeah. No surprise there," Taehyung interrupted, his hand ever-so-slightly tightening around Jungkook's arm before loosening again. "But let me guess. You still can't get out of your head?"

"No," Jungkook said. "Not until . . ."

You. The word clung to the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken, but Jungkook swallowed it down. He didn't need to say that part out loud; Taehyung probably knew exactly how that sentence was going to end.

They fell into silence for a moment, nothing but crooning jazz music filling the room. And maybe earlier, Jungkook would've felt awkward, like he was supposed to fill the space between them with words or actions. But the silence wasn't unbearably loud now, no. Not with Taehyung's fingers gliding over his skin and providing this new and strange and mind-numbing type of comfort.

As one song ended and another began, Taehyung slid closer. His thigh pressed against Jungkook's, a solid and warm presence that Jungkook didn't mind at all. But still, Taehyung asked, "Are you alright like this? With me being this close?"

"Yeah," Jungkook replied, biting his tongue before he could embarrass himself with another definitely very much a fan moment.

Taehyung nodded, extending his free arm behind Jungkook so it rested on the couch. "The most important part of these sessions is for you to feel comfortable. To control how you want to be touched and when. But you know . . . you don't have to figure that all out on your own. I can guide us. I can give suggestions and things to try, and then you can decide if you like it or not."